


On a Quiet Afternoon

by superdanganisland



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Massage, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superdanganisland/pseuds/superdanganisland
Summary: Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama explore some new boundaries.
Relationships: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	On a Quiet Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of spiritual followup to my last fic, "Mind the Gap", but with the roles reversed and set much later in the timeline. This can definitely be read as a stand alone fic, however. I've been meaning to write something like this for a long time and finally found it in me to piece it together with a little extra motivation from all your nice comments. :)
> 
> Be warned: While this fic is not EXPLICIT in a pornographic sense, it is, uh... spicy. Real spicy. Hee hoo

It started just as many of their days had recently—with boring, dreadful routine. 

A rare cool day on the island signaled perhaps the start of fall, or maybe just a brief cold front, but enough to forgo the usual air conditioning for cracked windows and fresh ocean air. The calendar told them it was fall, nearly winter, and while Kuzuryuu almost didn’t believe it, the brisk wind from offshore today made him reconsider. 

With little left for them to do, they’d find any reason to break up the monotony in between the occasional visit from Naegi and shipments of supplies. Each of his former classmates had woken up what felt like ages ago, each falling back into their cliques and routines after a long and arduous recovery. There was still a long road ahead, so they took respite in whatever comforts they could get, and the circled dates on the calendar gave them something to look forward to. Tonight, the date they had circled was Mioda’s birthday, so most of the students had agreed to gather in the dining hall to clean and prepare for what was sure to be one of the more lively get-togethers of the year.

Everyone, that is, except Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama, who were conspicuously absent after agreeing to help.

Kuzuryuu still took respite in the quieter moments on the island, even after admitting that even he looked forward to their gatherings sometimes. His cottage was his safe haven, the one place he could shut out the outside world and take peace in knowing most people wouldn’t bother him here. Despite the general semblance of routine that the day started with, the shifting atmosphere just beyond the window made him feel a certain type of way today. He’d join them when he felt like it.

A cool breeze swept through his curtains, bringing with it the distinctive scent of the ocean air. He inhaled deeply, and leaned once more over the figure lying before him on his bed—her pale, silver hair pooled against his sheets and her back splotched with dappled sunlight—returning his careful hands to her shoulders.

There were still days when he looked at Peko and couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him, breathing, _alive_. 

He remembered a day when they crossed paths in the hallway, alone, long after she’d awoken but still regaining the last of her strength. They’d met a thousand times like this before, yet for some reason, they both paused there in that moment, a palpable tension in the air between them. She looked at him with bright, red eyes—full of life and vigor—and when she said his name, he staggered towards her, knees weak and vision hazy. They met somewhere in the middle, his legs finally buckling as she gripped him as hard as he did. He clung to her like he’d lose her again if he ever let go.

Many nights were spent lingering on that memory—the strength of her touch, the heat of her cheek against his, the feeling when their lips first brushed.

His thoughts returned to the present, remembering that the person he was daydreaming about was right here in front of him. “Boring” days meant more days like this, and he decided, maybe, he didn’t mind it after all.

They’d begun this routine for therapeutic purposes—when both their bodies would be tormented by aching stiffness after their time in the pod, and in her case, debilitating phantom pains that came with the nervous system shock. They didn’t know if it was a real treatment in the truest sense of the word, but the phantom pains were rare these days, and the touch took their minds off other things they didn’t need to dwell on.

Peko’s responses were subtle, but he learned to read the signs, even when he couldn’t see her face. After a while, he learned to just let his fingers move and trust that she didn’t hate it, even if she wasn’t very forthright about it. But boy, he _craved_ it when she was.

His fingers pressed into the soft part of her collarbone, and her breath stuttered ever so slightly; running his hands down her spine, she tilted her head down, fingertips digging lightly into his sheets, like she was struggling to stifle her reaction to uphold her stoic facade. She breathed steadily through her nose as he repeated the action a few more times, allowing herself to settle back into the feeling. He could do this all day.

That said, they’d been here for a while. The others would be wondering where they were by now. He stopped for a moment, just to see what she’d do, and leaned back on his knees to get a better view.

She let him at first. A few seconds later, she tipped her head back to look at him, cheeks red and eyes lazily coming back into focus, and said, “What?”

Kuzuryuu grinned playfully. For someone who normally carried herself in a dignified manner, she looked a bit like a cat who was annoyed that someone stopped petting it. 

“Heh, you like that or somethin’?” he teased gently, though his voice was soft and careful. Her glasses had been removed, so he was probably just a blurry idiot from back here.

From the one side of her face he could view, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink—she was easy to fluster, and his teasing didn’t help. She lowered her head back against the mattress. “...It’s good. Thank you.”

“I think the others were expecting us by now,” he said with a hint of disappointment, eyeing the clock near his bed. It was late afternoon, and the party was set to start at dinner. They hadn’t helped them set up at all. “Do you want to start heading over there, or…?”

He assumed she might—she often appreciated these kinds of things more than he did—but when his eyes followed the curve of her back down his bed, still resting comfortably on her stomach, it didn’t look like she was in any hurry to get up. Truth be told, he didn’t feel like leaving yet, and by the looks of it, she didn’t either. He’d still wait for her answer, just to be sure.

After a few moments of what must have been careful deliberation, she closed her eyes and sighed, her cheeks still a delicate shade of pink. “Maybe later.”

Kuzuryuu’s eyes lingered on her as she sunk back into his mattress— _god,_ she was cute like this—and moved his hands back to her shoulders to continue his work. She shifted, ever so slightly, stretching her legs into a better position and bumping into his knee in the process. 

She hadn’t meant anything by it, and he could have just brushed it off—but an idea popped into his head. He moved his hands down to the base of her back, and her breath stuttered unexpectedly. It caught him off guard, and his heart leapt in his chest.

“I might try…” He licked his lips to counteract the dryness on his tongue. “Would you mind if I moved further down?”

He didn’t mean to imply anything extra by it, but realized it soon after it left his mouth. She’d lifted her head back up at him, eyes wide and alert.

“Y-Your legs, I mean,” he said quickly, and gingerly placed his palm just above the back of her knee. Her leg ran hot, even with the fabric of her stocking separating her skin and his fingers. He bit his lip. “Would this be alright?”

She let out the breath that had been trapped in her chest, and said, shakily, “Yes.”

Both hands moved to her thigh this time, and she shifted slightly again, allowing him a better angle. He forced his eyes away from the line of her skirt—not that he could see anything, but it was rude of him to look, seeing as this was a _girl_ he was dealing with, of course. He didn’t need any reminders. Heat flared in the corners of his mind, and he swallowed back other thoughts to allow him to focus on the back of her leg. His brow furrowed so thoroughly that his forehead ached.

The back of her thigh was surprisingly firm, though he suspected it was because she was partially tensed up, and he adjusted his approach by sliding down to her calves with a milder touch. Eventually, she seemed to settle into it, and allowed him to move further up without the same sense of coiled tightness. He’d drawn a mental line at the edge of her stockings at her mid-thigh, the point where he’d naturally stop himself from traversing beyond, but it became harder and harder as her breath hitched when he approached it. 

“How far d’you... want me to…” He struggled to put it delicately. Instead, he inched his hand towards the edge of her tights and ever-so-slightly inward, hoping she understood what he was trying to ask. “Is this alright?”

A few seconds passed before she answered, heart thudding in his chest. If she didn’t like it, he would stop.

“Go ahead,” she said finally, partially muffled, her forehead buried into her arm. The reassurance that she wanted more chased away some of his anxiety. With her permission, he moved past the point of no return, where her skin was exposed, and felt the searing heat of her bare flesh against his fingers. Her whole body jolted—more so than he’d felt from her before—and he could see her free hand grasp idly at his sheets. Goosebumps prickled his sensitive fingers.

His conscious thoughts became filled with static. Heat rushed to his face and elsewhere as she allowed him to explore her body. His fingers were guided by touch alone, obscured by the hem of her skirt. He didn’t dare move much further up, never coming close to the crook of her legs, but this was enough.

Once he was sure she was still comfortable with where they were at, his hands retreated back down to focus on the rest of her legs, his eyes laser-focused on his task. He slid his hands back up once more, palms tracing her curves, the muscles in his forehead burning from concentration. 

Peko’s breaths grew steady and deep, forehead still pressed firmly into her arm. He wished desperately to see her face, desiring her closeness, seeing the warmth in her cheeks. 

He wanted that, even just for a second. With only the barest semblance of conscious thought, he traced his hands up the sides of her body, past her hips, afraid if he broke contact the moment between them would slip away. Moving his weight forward to draw her attention, it succeeded—but in the same moment, he let his hands grasp for leverage at the dip of her waist, and he felt his touch ripple through her like a shockwave.

He thought perhaps he dug his thumbs into her too hard. But some sort of sound escaped her lips—maybe a gasp, maybe something else. He’d never heard that before. The muscles in her back tensed forcibly, causing her to form a distinct arch.

He wasn’t sure if she meant it to be intentional or not, but— _good god,_ her figure. He felt pathetic in comparison. The blurry haze in his mind expanded across his vision, and his grip tightened momentarily, forcing an unsteady rush of air out her nose. He was partially on top of her, though mainly for balance purposes—one knee inside of the junction of her legs, and one knee out. He wasn’t touching her anywhere else.

Instinct began to take over, guiding him into doing what felt right in the moment. He leaned back and dipped his head downward, pressing a soft kiss into the small of her back, right where her muscles were strained, almost as if to apologize. His nose brushed against her spine.

It must have taken her a second to realize what he was doing, but when she did, she inhaled sharply, his lips lingering tenderly on the spot.

“F-Fuyuhiko…” she breathed, barely audible against his mattress, but thunderous to his ears.

Heat rushed through his body, settling into a pleasurable burn in his core. The static energy in the air was palpable, just as it had been the night they met in the hallway. This was a new boundary they hadn’t yet explored. 

Remembering where he was, he came to his senses for a moment, and returned his hands to her shoulders, where he knew they’d been comfortable before.

“Are you still alright?” he asked close to her ear, in a low rumble so soft and feathery that he almost didn’t recognize himself. “Do you want me to… keep going?” 

He struggled to form words through the pace of his breathing, and he could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his hands. His familiar touch against her shoulders worked to ground them both, and in a throaty, unfamiliar tone, she answered, “...Keep going.”

Hearing her in such a way set his senses alight. She wanted this. He wanted this. They needed this.

She sunk beneath him. He pressed another firm kiss to the dip in her back, then trailed upwards, never letting his lips stray very far in between. His nose became entrenched in the clean, natural scent of her shirt & of _her_ , wishing desperately that the fabric of her top wasn’t separating them. 

When he reached her nape, he followed the natural curve over her shoulder, and nipped at the hot skin at the junction of her neck. Almost silently, she gasped, and it drew her name raggedly from deep within his core. 

His shirt was driving him crazy. He pulled away for a second to undo the top few buttons, fingers fumbling as he moved quickly to remove them, keeping it on but letting it hang open at his sides. Without delay, he dove back in, letting his lips suck desperately at the exposed flesh near her collarbone. She leaned away to give him a better angle, sliding a hand behind his head for encouragement. _Yes._

The position he was holding himself at was beginning to grow awkward. He balanced himself partially at her side, with one hand on her side as an anchor, his legs straining to keep him where he needed to be. She must have realized it too, for when he pushed himself over to reach the other side of her neck, she rolled into his space, repositioning onto her back. He moved aside to allow it, but instead, she put her hands along his ribs, holding him in place. Gracefully, she guided his chest over hers as she sunk into his bed.

He froze. They were face-to-face now, bright eyes looking up at him, focused and full of warm affection. She already looked positively undone, hair messy and collar disheveled, but her face was still that delicious shade of pink. Her chest expanded rapidly, working to catch her breath through parted lips. His pulse pounded so heavily he could feel it in his throat. 

He licked his lips again, this time to keep the saliva in his mouth. They stayed here for a few moments, drinking in each other’s presence, feeling one another out. Her gaze briefly dipped below his eye line and back up.

He wasn’t touching her, at least not in any meaningful way. His arms were braced at her sides, his legs straddling her waist. They’d never been here before—not like this. He craved her closeness. Somewhere deep in the haze, his inner voice yelled at him from the fog, and his mind briefly organized itself to allow him to string together a sentence.

“Hey, I-I...” he said, unsteadily. “I-I don’t really know what I’m doing, to be honest.”

He didn’t know if she picked up what he was implying, but he’d never told her with quite so much eloquence that he’d never done this before, not even with all the resources in the world at his disposal. The topic didn’t come up. He wasn’t sure if she had experience either, and didn’t care to ask. 

“It’s alright,” she said.

“I-I don’t… _Peko_...” he said breathily. The nervous energy threatened to overtake him. They were here. He was pinning her to his bed. He could barely speak, sucking in each breath as though his heart would leap out of his throat. His voice was barely above a whisper, like he was afraid he’d scare her away. “A-Are you sure… this is what you…?”

Just as his racing thoughts threatened to spin out of control, she reached a gentle hand up to his face, stopping to caress his cheek, then moved beyond his ear to stroke his temple. He leaned into the familiar, pleasant touch, static sparking in his vision. Her face was softer than ever, lips curved into a gentle smile, reassuring, comfortable, chasing his fears away. When she finally spoke, her voice tickled down his spine.

“I always thought you had a handsome smile.”

Her comment drew it out of him—whether he was genuinely moved, or the corniness of it in the moment, but it didn’t matter, because it worked. He pressed a warm cheek back into her hand, and lifted his own up to wrap his fingers into hers. 

She slid her hand past his temple, applying gentle pressure to the back of his neck. He didn’t fight it, allowing himself to lean in, close enough for their foreheads to touch and their noses to bump. Once they found the right angle, he moved in to kiss her, properly and fully. 

He assumed he was not very skilled, but when her tongue swirled eagerly around his, he decided to trust her judgement. Her taste reminded him of the first time—slick and full-bodied—and he wondered what she thought of him.

He broke away from her lips, and while she briefly flashed him a curious look, he leaned over to press a firm, needy kiss near her jawline, right on her thrumming pulse. She gasped, this time audibly, and his body seared with rushing heat. He continued at an aggressive pace, hungrily pressing his lips into her skin and sucking at her neck and shoulder to draw out the reaction that he craved. Her fingers dug into his back, holding him desperately, both of them growing bolder by the second. He began to feel her lips against his neck, returning the favor in his direction.

His body was combusting. He wasn’t sure if it was laziness, or gravity, or her leg wrapped around his, but as her teeth raked his neck, he let himself gradually sink into her, and when his hips came to rest, the sudden friction sent a shock through them both.

She bucked under him, burying her face into him to stifle the sound that came out of her mouth. Face as red as fire, his tongue formed the syllables to an apology—his body wasn’t keeping any secrets right now.

She was unraveling beneath him. He could feel her hot breath against his neck, mouth hanging open, desperate and affectionate. He’d never seen her like this. He needed more.

With their bodies aligned, he thrusted against her once more, this time strategically. The energy ripped through them both, white static overtaking his conscious thought. He rolled his hips back to try it again, but the voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to slow down.

The voice burst through the fog. He paused, suddenly becoming aware of how alien his actions were. Peko scrabbled at his back, certainly wondering why he stopped. There was only one logical next step, and he didn’t know if he had it in him to jump that hurdle tonight. 

There wasn’t much time for him to let his mind work it out before he felt her hands grip him like a vice, and in a single, fluid motion, threw him off and onto his back. It was a nearly effortless move, still engraved into her muscle memory from years of intense training. He readied the apology on his tongue, thinking he’d finally crossed a line, but when he looked back up at her, he swallowed it back. His eyes looked up at her, pupils wide and dark.

She was straddling him, knees against his hips, staring down at him like a lioness. Her eyes were transfixed into his, long strands of silver hair brushing against his exposed chest as she pinned him onto his own bed. Before he could even react, she ground her hips into him, right where he was straining, and the noise that escaped him was louder than he intended. 

Kuzuryuu forced himself to keep his eyes open, though he felt like he was seeing stars. Peko breathed heavily above him, her face consumed with pleasure. He would do _anything_ for her—he wanted to hold her and never let go, melt into her, _devour_ her. 

He reached down to undo his pants, and became hung up on the zipper. The final hurdle. His fingers fumbled—he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

A second too long passed. Something snapped in Peko, like she realized what she was doing in the same way he had. Her ferocious facade abruptly cracked, and she jerked away from him.

“S-Sorry… was that—?” Her chest heaved with each breath as she brought herself back down, wavy curls framing her flushed face.

“ _Peko_ …” He released the sigh he’d been holding in him as he said her name. “It’s alright. It’s good—really good. You're good. I mean— _fuck_.” He was sure he didn’t look much better, face slick with sweat and his shirt askew.

Just then, he heard what must have brought her back down to earth—there were voices outside. Not close, but close enough. Their window was open. Shit. They probably didn’t hear anything, but the mere thought of it left him feeling exposed. 

“Do you want to….?” Peko began to ask, but he could feel her nervous tension now too. She swallowed. They’d never gotten to the final hurdle, much less jumped it. 

“I can’t— _We_ can’t…” he breathed. “I don’t—I don’t have any—”

He was embarrassed just to say it—it wasn’t something he’d put much thought into until now. They couldn’t afford a mistake, not here, not now. They weren’t ready for this if he couldn’t even bear to bring it up.

She understood his implication. He thought he could see a twinge of disappointment in her face, and she could probably see it in his, but there was no getting around it. They remained tethered there for a few moments, not wanting to break away, but unable to find a way to let the moment fizzle naturally.

They mutually disengaged. He helped her get up, and watched as she twisted aside and collapsed right back into his bed. His mind was still fuzzy, and his body ached for her, but those feelings would be pushed aside for another moment when they had more time to think. There’d be more days like this—there always were.

A cool breeze whipped past him again, sending a prickly shiver up his spine. They had time to rest their eyes before the party, setup be damned. He joined her at her side, lowering himself into the crook of her shoulder, and wrapped an arm across her body for good measure. He buried himself into her warmth, and held her tight.

* * *

“Ah, Peko-chan~! We’ve been looking for you all night!” said Mioda, loudly announcing her arrival to everyone in the room and wearing a separate party hat on each of her horns. “Wowww, Ibuki’s never seen you rock a scarf before! Are you a functional fashionista now? It’s a good look on you!”

Pekoyama pulled her scarf higher, just in case. “Yes, I thought so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kuzuryuu wasn't THINKING about it OKAY
> 
> (he apologizes later)


End file.
